


The Dreaming Thief

by SparklyGlitterDeath



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Abused Harry, Abusive Dursleys, Gen, Muggle AU, draco's a jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklyGlitterDeath/pseuds/SparklyGlitterDeath
Summary: Harry was a thief that hoped that one day, he wouldn't have to steal what he desperately needed. The boy next door was supposed to help him. It's too bad that his dreams are just unattainable.





	

When Harry was four, he stole his first book. Of course, he'd stolen food before, but books were different. They provided nourishment to him in a far different way, and he would spend hours in his cupboard tracing the pictures with the light that weakly shone in through the chinks in the door. Since he was too little to be useful and too different to be loved, Harry often kept to his books.   
When Harry was five, a new family moved in the house next to the Dursleys. He often wondered about the boy the new family had, with his white hair and silvery eyes. Whenever he was locked in his cupboard, he would pretend that he and the boy would go on fantastic adventures, sailing around the world collecting vast treasures. Even as he cried in the dark, hungry and lonely, Harry imagined that he and the boy were kings, feasting on anything and everything they wanted. When his uncle yanked him out of the tiny space and beat him for not finishing his chores, Harry sobbed and dreamed of him and the boy flying out and up to the skies. Now Harry stole glances, yearning to catch a glimpse of a boy he hoped was his friend out of the windows he polished diligently.   
When Harry was six, Dudley went to school. Harry hadn't been outside much, and he enviously watched as his cousin preened about in his new clothes. During the day, when everyone was out of the house, Harry pretended that he and the boy next door were going to school together. He learned to read slowly, stealing the workbooks Dudley tossed aside. Harry and the silvery-eyed boy played and learned together whenever he was alone, and the shaggy-haired boy felt happy.   
When Harry turned eight, he learned how to unlock the back door, and he began stealing fresh air and tranquility. As soon as everyone left the house, he snuck out and settled into the perfect bushes that his pinched aunt hired a gardener for, and he watched the outdoors. Sometimes, when Harry was very lucky, the Dursleys left for weekend vacations and locked him in the cupboard. Harry could easily escape that prison, and he nicked food from the cabinets and slept outside. On those weekends, Harry would impatiently wait for his friend to come home, and he would watch as the beautiful boy would laugh and kiss his elegant mother. He would play at royal courts, where he and the boy would joke and dance with all of the fine ladies, and he would twirl around in the lush lawn until he was breathless. When Harry turned nine, his uncle lost his job. After interviewing all day, he would come back and scream at him for things that really weren't his fault. On the worst days, he would grab his belt and beat him until Harry wasn't sure if he was awake or not anymore. Those times, even though it wasn't very nice, Harry imagined that the blonde boy was there with him, and that they were captured knights being tortured for information on how to kill the king. If he hurt so much that he couldn't make up stories, he just tried to make out the bedtime stories Aunt Petunia told Dudley through the cupboard door. Those times, Harry stole laughter and joy, eagerly reaching out for more and more.   
When Harry turned ten, he stole himself a birthday gift. It was only some of Dudley's old crayons, but Harry and the smirking, pale boy decided that they were precious jewels found in a exciting jungle. Then Dudley found out and his uncle hit him so much that he slept for a whole day. Harry stopped pretending for a while after that. When Harry turned eleven, he no longer fit in the cupboard, and he got to sleep in the garden shed instead. He made a staircase out of old boxes and cut a hole in the roof so he could sleep up there instead, stealing many thrilling nights of wonder as he stared at the stars. He and the boy next door were astronauts, and they flew far, far away from the Dursleys and lived on the moon. Sometimes the boy left his curtains open, and on those nights all Harry imagined was that he was lying right there next to the sleeping boy. If he hurt too much to get up to his secret spot, he had to lie on the floor and try to remember the constellations.   
When Harry turned twelve, Dudley learned how fun it was to hit him. Although it wasn't his fault, Harry often wished that the boy would come in and rescue him from Dudley, and he felt a little bitter every time he didn't. Even if the silver-eyes boy didn't know who he was, Harry felt like they'd been friends for forever. Every night they plotted how to hurt Dudley back, and every morning nothing happened. On the days his cousin didn't fight him, his uncle did instead. That felt a lot worse. He wasn't supposed to cry, so he stole the tears he had to let out, stole the moments he wasn't allowed to have.   
When Harry turned thirteen, he met the boy he'd known since he was five. He had smiled uncertainly at the handsome teenager. He had kept smiling up until the stranger had sneered and punched him across his face. He and Dudley became best friends instead of him and Harry. He sat on the roof alone every night now. He flew alone through the stars, and he stole and studied Dudley's schoolbooks by himself, beaten and bruised by his imaginary friend. When Harry felt so much pain he couldn't sleep, he was left in the dark all night. When his uncle hit him, no one else was there to keep him strong. Sometimes, just because he couldn't be by himself anymore, Harry stole the boy next door in his thoughts, and they were the best of friends once again.   
When Harry turned fourteen, he stopped dreaming. He stopped waiting for the day he grew up and could take off for the moon. He stole sleep now, listlessly accepting every beating in the hope that he would be left to himself sooner.  
When Harry turned fifteen, he stole his life. The boy with the tongue more silver than his eyes or his hair grabbed the stars with his cousin instead, and Harry was forgotten. The thief of childhood was cast aside as an unpleasant memory.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever. I'm not going to beg, but a review would be appreciated. I know this probably sucks, so I'm just looking for some constructive criticism!


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